Gone
by Unwaveringhope
Summary: "In a split second, all that I knew was shattered – like a million little shards of glass, piercing my skin. In one simple statement, everything I knew was gone."  Draco OC ;begins in the summer of 6th year
1. Fairy Tale

Coming home on the scarlet Hogwarts Express this year, I had lost the usual twinge of sadness – replaced by an overriding worry I couldn't for the life of me shake off. When I stepped off at the platform 9 ¾, I lugged my trunk down the steps in a matter of seconds. Hermione caught my shoulder as I was wrapping my fingers around the cold metal of the handle on the cage of my beautiful, spotted owl, Chole. I accidentally fumbled and her cage clunked as it hit its shelf. An indignant screech broke through the train, and I mentally sighed.

Twirling on the spot, I faced Hermione with my hands placed on my hips. "What?" I asked, my tone rather irritated – she had been all protective of me the whole day and it was getting on my nerves.

Hermione was persistent, though. "Are you sure you're alright, Leah?" Concern was evident in her wide, brown eyes and she still held a death grip on my right arm. I could feel my circulation being cut off.

I nodded stiffly, "I'm fine." My face must have betrayed me, though, as she cocked her head to the side.

"Really?"

"Just drop it. I've got to find Mum and Dad." I gave her a meaningful look. Picking up Chole's cage, I gazed at her once more and broke. "Of course I'm not. Write me, this summer, okay? I guess I'll see you next term." I opened my arms to hug her. I smiled as she returned the favor.

A tiny sad smile blossomed on her rosy lips. "Sure.", but the way her eyes looked downcast after she said it and she bit her lip, I knew something was wrong. As a friend, I wanted to ask her, but I had to find my parents. Regretting every step I took, I walked around her and stepped down off the steps. Halfway to the archway, I stopped mid-thought.

A body collided with me as I stood mulling over my conversation with Hermione – my best and only friend. Finding myself on the floor, a pain ripped through my elbow. I tried to rub the tender spot, but I realized I was trapped by another body atop mine. I pulled myself up and was met with the piercing, icy blue eyes of Draco Malfoy dusting off his black suit.

"Watch it mudblood. You may be a Slytherin, but you're still a foul leech."

It took me a moment to form a response, "Shut it, Malfoy."

"Not in the mood, Sevigny? Off to hide your muggle parents before _He_ gets to them?" He smirked, gloating at my obvious discomfort at the subject. I couldn't understand him. How had he hardened so much over the past few months? How could one person make such a turnaround?

My voice wavered, "I said shut it, Draco." His eyes seemed to soften as I used his first name.

"What? Cause I take orders from mudbloods? You must be off it today, Leah."

I shook my head, and Draco shrugged in response. Allowing one last glance, I stalked away from him, and ran through the archway.

Spotting my parents at the entrance to the station, I sprinted forward. Dad enveloped me in a big bear hug. He was safe, warm, but things couldn't stay that way for long.

"Honey, how was your sixth year?" my mom asked. Her honey blond curls roped around her angular face in delicate spirals.

"Terrible." My voice was serious, but my dad laughed in spite of it. Then he realize I wasn't joking. "I'll tell you once we get home."

Climbing into our old, rusty truck I flung my baggage into the bed and held Chole tight as I settled into the worn backseat. The engine fired to life as we pulled away from the parking lot and back towards our home in the little alcove of woods.

Honestly, I tried not to think of him, but I never could seem to succeed. My mind flew back to his face. His pale blond hair slightly disarray and his cold blue eyes staring into mine. I would have smiled, when I had saw him then, but in the recent events . . . .

Draco and I had been a strange pair from the start. Me being a muggleborn, it was a sort of major uprising when I was sorted into the Slytherin. For the first year, I was a total outcast. Second year was better, when I met a certain pale blonde. He was caring – feeling. Something I have known just about none other Slytherins to be. We were like best friends all throughout the year. We could talk about anything. Whenever I found myself reminiscing about those days, I always was accompanied with a longing to sought them out and take them back as rightfully my own.

In third year, I had befriended Hermione Granger, a bit of a know-it-all and a proud Gryffindor. We had bonded instantly, but it had ruined my relationship with Draco. He didn't want me to associate with "dirty bloods", he had said. I had shouted back, I remember - my temper flaring like the harsh December wind that was tangling my already knotted, black tresses. We were standing outside, on the shore of the Black Lake, and in full view of the notorious Womping Willow. "Then what does that make me? Aren't I the same as her?" Heads had turned, my shrill voice carried through the swirling air. When he didn't reply, I turned and fled. If it hadn't been for my eyes swelling with tears, threatening to overflow, I would have stayed there and waited for him to say _something,_ but I left, and he took that as our friendship was over.

Later on, we had gotten together once or twice. He taken me as his date for the Yule Ball in third year, and we had chatted in the common room the beginning of last year as I comforted him after his father was placed in Azkaban. He seemed so fragile . . .

A car door slammed. "Earth to Leah!" my dad poked me playfully, but I saw that it was half-heartedly.

Once I stepped through the maroon door of our house, my mum plopped down in her ancient, wooden rocking chair, and stared at me expectantly, her hesitant demeanor hid behind curiosity. "So, what's this terrible year I hear about, Leah?" She patted the space on the side of her chair, and I squeezed between her and the armrest as I prepared to spill.

My blood pounded in my ear, as I remembered every little detail. This was real. For a second on the train it had all felt like a nightmare, but this was not a fairy tale life – not even close.


	2. Hysteria

"You remember Draco, Mum?" I asked in a hushed voice, my eyes winced as I pronounced his name on the tip of my tongue. How had I come to where I was sitting now?

"Yes. You two used to be the best of friends - so sweet." I lifted my chin to see her staring blankly with a smile of the past.

"Well his father got put in wizard prison – Azkaban. He was caught at the Ministry, he was a Death Eater working for _You-Know-Who_." It was hard to explain things to outsiders, but I have to remember that I was one of those outsiders at a time too.

"Oh, my." Her voice was shocked, but I didn't stop to gauge her reaction.

"So, I talked to Draco at the beginning of the year, and it was like things were back to normal, but I was way off. He let the Death Eaters into the school. There was a huge battle, but I don't think anyone was seriously injured. Except . . ." A sob escaped my lips. I remembered how Hermione told me what Harry had seen. At first I couldn't believe her. _She has to be lying,_ I thought. Draco did . . . _that?_ I wanted to ask him, but he had fled the school with Snape. That's when it all came together for me – Draco was a Death Eater just like his father. So when I had comforted him earlier, was he really so upset? It didn't seem so, as he had gone right along and followed in his footsteps at the first chance possible.

"Oh, honey." I placed my head in the crook of her shoulder, and she stroked my hair, untangling its snarled state. After a short while, my sobs subsided. It was quiet for a long pause. I didn't like it. The quiet unearths thoughts from behind locks in my mind, thoughts which I have no intention of reliving. I was eternally grateful when a question broke through the silence. "Except whom?" Mum's voice was slow and calculated. I could tell she didn't want to voice the query aloud, for my sake, but she was perpetually curious at heart.

"The headmaster," I finally whispered, "Albus Dumbledore."

"Huh." I looked up at the sound. What did that mean? She caught my expression, "I just thought - never mind." I was confused by her pushing away the subject, but I nonetheless continued on my story of conflict.

"Now, that . . . _he_ is gone _You-Know-Who_ has much more power. It'll be only who knows when until he overtakes the ministry, and then maybe the whole wizarding world." I sounded hopeless and defeated. No matter how hard I wanted to act like Hermione – a brave Gryffindor – I could not. I was simply a Slytherin, whatever that may entail.

". . ."

"Mum?" I asked. Here was the risky part – how could I break the news?

"Yes, honey?" Her tone was polite, but lost elsewhere. I could not blame her – it was a lot to take in in such a short amount of time.

"Next year, no one can know what exactly is going to happen, its impossible to predict," (_not even Professor Trelawnley, _I joked – but I couldn't even make myself laugh),"and we should take precautions, cause I don't want you or Dad to get hurt." It was hard to tell her this – excruciating. I should have taken Hermione's plan and not tell them, but I couldn't bear that. It would feel to close to a betrayal. "I should, _I need_, to wipe your memories."

"Isn't, isn't there another way?" Mum's voice sounded like a million emotions mixed together. I couldn't pick out each separate one.

"I'm afraid not." If I had heard myself had we not been in mortal danger, I would have laughed on the spot at how diplomatic I sounded. "It's for your own good."

Mum got up from the rocker, "Talk to father," she mutter, I couldn't quite catch the whole sentence. The chair was rocking wildly and the motion was beginning to make me nauseous, or maybe it was the fear of the unknown. I couldn't tell you.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I set my head in my hands and closed my eyelids. The black was penetrated by the lingering light from the antique lamp Mum had bought at a garage sale in the summer before my fourth year. Before my eyes, the light faded, and I saw Draco in my mind's eye. I banished his image from my head, and moved on to Hermione.

Desperate for a distraction, I ambled down the stretch of hallway, filled with pictures of Mum, Dad, and I. I kept my deep, chocolate brown eyes down on my feet clad in earthy brown ballet flats. Arriving at my room, I turned the knob. Once inside, I hastily turned to my cherry desk and uncovered a bottle of ink. Fishing out a fresh piece of parchment from my school bag, I dipped my quill into the ink.

_Dear Hermione_, I scrawled in my elaborate, slanted cursive. Hermione had always complimented my manuscript, but I failed to see how impressive it really was. It was just natural for me; you could say I might take it for granted.

I told her about what Mum said, and I asked how she was so far at home. After I finished writing, I added an afterthought on a whim. Folding it delicately, I penned her name on the front, and flitted to the wide window overlooking the green, leafy forest. The sill was Chole's favorite spot to perch. I smoothed her silky feathers between my fingers. She felt as soothed by this motion as it sent a wave of serene peace washing over my limbs.

I took my letter and carefully tied it around Chole's leg. She flew off in an instant, as dutiful as ever.

I smiled as she soared into the distance, and was lost behind the branches of the forest. Then, I heard Mum calling my name, "Leah! Please come here for a moment. Your father and I want to talk with you." I rushed through the hall into the living room. When I didn't find them, I walked through the door into the kitchen and happened upon them standing in the middle, their gazes solemnly fixed upon me. A lump rose in my throat.

I hated having to tell them this, I hated that everything had happened this way, but before I had the chance to share my grievances, my father interrupted.

"Leah, we've decided that we'll go along with what you, uh, wanted to do." He looked dually troubled and concerned.

I was glad they had accepted, but I didn't want to go through with this – it was all too soon. Everything had happened so fast.

I grasped my wand between my thumb and forefinger, and pulled it out of my skirt pocket. "I'm sorry," I whispered, and my mother closed her eyes and sank into father's embrace, "Obli-"

"But we have some news we think you should know." My mum spoke, her form bolting upright. She looked scared, but not for what she was about to undergo, for what she was about to say. I was in shocked silence.

"How you said that they were going to hurt muggleborns? That's what they called them?"

"Yes," my tone was tentative and a bit suspicious.

"Well, what if, perhaps, you _weren't_ a muggleborn?"

"What are you trying to say, Mum?" I felt the hysterics creeping into my brain.

"Honey, you're adopted. They had found you on the street, and a young couple -" I quit listening.

I felt the smooth wood of my wand as it grazed my fingertips. I heard the echoing clatter as it collided with the speckled, tiled floor. Everything was but a background noise. In a split second, all that I knew was shattered – like a million little shards of glass, piercing my skin. I wanted to scream out in ignorance. No, this couldn't possibly be true. In one simple statement all I knew was gone.


End file.
